by G. A. Aiken
“Give me a few minutes then.”
“Of course.”
Feeling elated by the obvious attention of Lady Katarina—she was making him tea!—Addolgar relaxed back and let out a contented sigh. As he waited, watching the lovely Lady Katarina move around the campfire, he noticed Braith heading off into the woods toward the nearby lake. She had her head down as she silently eased away. No one noticed, which he expected was what she wanted.
Braith sat down by the river. Her back legs stretched out in front of her, her claws resting on her knees, and her wings stretching out from her body.
She’d admit, she couldn’t stand to watch another second. By the gods, the fawning. The fawning!
It was all so easy for them, wasn’t it? The pretty ones. It was as if the males felt an inherent need to coddle the pretty ones. Did their beauty make them somehow weaker?
Nor did it help that Lady Katarina was inherently sweet. It would be easier if she were a right bitch like most royals. But instead, she was polite, charming, and damn pretty.
Braith wanted to hate her, but she just couldn’t. The bitch.
She heard movement in the trees, and Braith stood on her haunches and raised her claws, curling them into fists. Addolgar the Cheerful lumbered out of the trees, stopping when he saw her raised fists. He blinked hard.
“A bit nervous?” he asked.
“Aren’t you?”
“No.” Addolgar glanced off, silent for a moment, then asked, “Should I be?”
“Can you honestly tell me you feel comfortable here?”
“Oh. Do you think we should travel as human?”
Braith took a breath and reminded herself that this was Addolgar. He wasn’t quite like his brother Bercelak. Although that could be why she actually liked him, because he wasn’t his brother Bercelak.
“That’s not what I meant.” She turned her body a bit so she could see Addolgar clearly. “I don’t trust these guards.”
Addolgar stepped closer. “Why not?”
Braith did not answer right away. She might be attracted to Addolgar, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. In fact, Braith trusted few, which was why she spent most of her time alone in her cave. It was safer.
Addolgar knelt down on one knee, one forearm resting on his massive thigh.
“What is it, Braith?” When she still didn’t answer: “You can trust me.”
Perhaps she could, but Braith had been protecting herself by herself for more than a century, since the death of her beloved mother, when her mother’s kin had sent her a letter saying they wanted nothing to do with her because she had her father’s blood coursing through her veins. So no, she wouldn’t suddenly confide in Addolgar the Cheerful, but what she would say was, “Watch the guards. They are loyal to my father, not to the Queen.”
Addolgar’s head tipped to the side. “But your father’s loyal to the Queen, is he not?”
“My father is loyal to my father. I have always made sure never to forget that.”
From the camp they could hear Lady Katarina calling out to Addolgar. Something about tea. Braith hated tea.
“We’ll be eating soon,” Addolgar said.
“I’ll be there in a bit,” Braith replied, turning her body back around to face the lake.
Addolgar stood and began to head back to camp. But he stopped just before stepping into the trees. “Want me to save you some ox?” he asked kindly. Why did he have to be so bloody nice?
Braith didn’t even bother to turn around. “No, thank you.”
She heard him walk off, which wasn’t really hard since he stomped like a moose. Once she knew she was alone, she let out a long sigh.
Briefly, she entertained the thought of breaking her oath to the Queen and just flying off. It would be easy enough; no one really cared that she was here. No one cared about her at all. But she knew she couldn’t do that—her oath was her bond. Just as her mother had taught her.
After allowing herself to really wallow in all that self-pity, Braith decided to head back to camp. But as she stood, she knew dragons were near again. Once more, she brought up her fists and spun around, ready to fight.
Strong claws covered handsome faces because they, if no one else, knew what those fists could truly do.
“A little nervous, sister?” her brother asked from behind his raised claws.
“Always a little nervous,” her other brother said.
And once Braith saw her older brothers standing in front of her, in the middle of nowhere, she knew she’d been right—her father was going to betray the Queen.
By the time Addolgar returned to the campsite, Lady Katarina was waiting for him with fresh tea and biscuits. She smiled at him as he approached.
“I was afraid you’d abandoned me, Sergeant.”
“No, no. Not at all. Just checking on Lady Braith.”
“She doesn’t seem very happy,” she murmured.
“Oh, she always looks like that.” Addolgar sat down by the fire and took the tea from Lady Katarina, holding the metal cup between both claws. He sipped it, forced himself not to wince at the bitter flavor. He’d never been a fan of tea. He preferred water . . . or just plain ale. He really liked ale. “She just has a lot on her mind.”
“I’m sure she does. In fact, I think she has you on her mind.”
“Me?” Addolgar chuckled. “Doubt that, Lady.”
“Why would you say that?”
“She’s never shown me the least bit of interest. I doubt she’d start now.”
She held out a tin of biscuits and Addolgar picked one up with the tips of two claws, nibbled it, rather than shoving it into his mouth before grabbing a handful more. He worried he’d have to eat the oxen like this as well. All polite nibbles and patient rendering, rather than tearing and ripping until he could get to the steamy insides like he usually did at mealtime.
She motioned to the tea, apparently done with the topic of Braith of the Darkness. “Drink up. The bitterness will go away in a bit.”
Addolgar nodded and took another gulp of the tea.
He didn’t think Lady Katarina was right, though, because he couldn’t imagine the tea tasting better anytime soon.
Lady Katarina sat down beside Addolgar. “You’re very . . . sweet, Sergeant Addolgar.”
Addolgar couldn’t help but smile. “You mean . . . compared to my family?”
“Oh, no, no—”
“It’s all right, Lady.” He shrugged. “I’m a Cadwaladr. I have no shame about that. No . . . insecurities.”
“You’re proud of them.”
“Of course I am. They’re my kin.”
“And they’ll be there for you? No matter what?”
Addolgar frowned, confused by the question. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I’d heard they can be”—she thought a moment—“harsh. To each other, I mean.”
“Some might say. But no more than any one of us can handle. And usually not more than any one of us deserves.”
“Good.” Her smile was soft . . . and a little sad. “I’m glad.”
“I’m glad you’re glad.”
Unable to tolerate any more of the horrid tea, Addolgar went to put the cup down, but it tumbled from his claw, tea splattering across the ground.
“Huh.” He looked at Lady Katarina. “I’m a bit of a fumble-claws tonight. Guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“Go to sleep. It’s all right.”
“All right. Just have the lads wake me up in a few hours so I can take night watch.”
“Of course,” she said, her voice seeming to fade to Addolgar’s ears. “And thank you, Sergeant.”
Addolgar stretched out, trying to keep himself raised on his elbow, but his forearm gave out and he ended up crashing to the ground.
He tried not to look as clumsy as he felt and asked, “What for, Lady Katarina?”
“For being ever so kind.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, grinning.
Lady Kata
rina’s image dimmed, and he briefly thought about spitting in an attempt to get the bitter taste of that awful tea out of his mouth. But, unfortunately, everything went black before he had the chance.
“What are you two doing here?” Braith asked her brothers, hoping to sound as vapid as they believed her to be. As confused. Like their father, they gave her very little credit.
“To take Lady Katarina.”
“Against her will?”
Meical scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course not. She’s as involved in this as the rest of us.”
“The rest of us?”
Afanen said with a dismissive shrug, “The soldiers here. They’re loyal to Father. Well . . . except for that big Cadwaladr oaf.”
“Good thing they sent him and not Bercelak,” Meical noted. “Or Ghleanna. That would have been messy.”
“Do you really think he’s just going to let her go without a fight?” Braith asked, her mind already racing.
“No need for all that.” Meical stepped back as Lady Katarina came through the trees, three of the soldiers with her.
“It’s done,” Katarina announced, her eyes on Braith. Locked on Braith.
“Good, my lady,” Meical said. “Then we should be off quickly.”
Katarina kept her eyes on Braith and, for a few brief seconds, she thought the female was challenging her. But then Braith realized . . . she wasn’t. She was, however, trying to tell her something.
Braith cleared her throat. “Uh . . . what about Addolgar?”
“He’s been handled,” Meical insisted.
“And if he’s not,” Afanen told her, “the rest of the soldiers will ensure he is before they follow us.”
“You lot go then,” Braith said brusquely. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Braith—”
“We don’t want to get this bit wrong, brothers. Father will have your asses if we do.”
“She’s right,” Meical agreed. “Go. Make sure he’s done, then follow the soldiers to our next location. They know where to go. Understand?”
“Of course.”
Katarina nodded at Braith, her eyes widening a bit before she turned from her and took to the air.
Braith waited until her brothers and the three soldiers followed before she turned and charged back toward the campsite.
She found the remaining guards surrounding Addolgar’s body. They glanced at her as she burst through the trees, but quickly refocused on Addolgar.
“I don’t think he’s dead yet,” said one.
“Should we wait?” asked another.
“No,” he said, and Braith began to panic. “Kill him. Let’s be done with it and go.”
He was only unconscious for a bit, but Addolgar had quickly figured out that Lady Katarina had poisoned him, though she clearly hadn’t given him enough to kill him. One of his cousins liked poisons and understanding how much poison to use based on weight and gender and age was something all good poisoners learned. True, Katarina might be a bad poisoner, but if she’d been really trying to murder him, she most likely would have overcompensated, giving him enough to kill him instantly and with great pain and blood.
No. He was certain she’d known what she was doing, but she probably hadn’t counted on these soldiers hanging back to make sure he was dead. They probably wouldn’t have bothered for anyone else, either, but they would never take a chance on a Cadwaladr surviving. That was something a royal like Lady Katarina would not understand.
Addolgar could move, but he was weaker than normal and so he waited, pretending to be unconscious, hoping that he’d get a chance to use the element of surprise to his advantage.
While he waited, he used his mind to call to his sister, a skill all immediate kin had with each other.
Ghleanna.
Addolgar? What is it?
Trouble. I need you. Where are you?
Ten minutes away.
What?
Did you really think Bercelak trusted bloody Berg? Do what you must, brother. I’m coming for you.
Addolgar should have known his brother had sent someone to shadow them, but he would be forever grateful. Still. Ten minutes could be a lifetime if he couldn’t stop these bastards before they hacked him to death. Yet before he could come up with a plan, Addolgar heard Braith’s voice. Gods, was she part of this, too? No. He couldn’t imagine that. Not Braith. There was something about her that seemed . . . well . . . she seemed not to care about much of anything. He couldn’t imagine she would bother betraying the Queen. So he refused to think she’d start now. Especially when she’d been the one to warn him about her father’s hand-picked soldiers.
“You lot go on,” Braith ordered, and Addolgar opened his eyes just a bit so he had a good idea of where everyone was standing . . . and what his odds were. “I’ll finish him,” she said, holding up an eating dagger sharp enough to cut his throat.
The soldiers nodded and began to move away . . . except one. That one, a big Red, held up his claw, halting the others. His blue eyes narrowed on Braith and, after a moment, he said, “That’s all right, Lady Braith. Your father’s orders were clear. We kill the Cadwaladr and then we go. This isn’t something you need to worry about.”
With a jerk of his head toward Addolgar, the soldiers turned back to him, all of them pulling out their swords. Behind them, Braith let out a sigh, her head momentarily dropping. Perhaps her father’s control over her was greater than Addolgar had thought. It seemed valid. He was clearly a dragon to fear.
But then she raised bright green eyes, her gaze locking on the soldiers. Fascinated, Addolgar couldn’t even focus his attention on his imminent death. Instead, he continued to watch Braith.
Watched as she grabbed two of the guards by their hair with her talons, using one forearm for each. She yanked them back, flipped both of them up at the same time, and then brought them down hard, their necks snapping in the process. Before dying, the two males cried out, startled at the attack, and the remaining soldiers spun around to face her.
The Red snarled, smoke coming from his nostrils. “Your father warned us we might have to kill you. Guess he was right.”
The Red raised his sword and charged, and Braith punched. She punched him in the snout. A punch so hard that Addolgar heard bone shatter, saw blood splatter the others. The Red stumbled back, landed on his ass. His snout was pushed back so far, he couldn’t speak and he had to breathe through his open mouth.
The others charged, and Braith caught the forearm of one, yanked him forward, and broke it over her other forearm. While still holding him, she brought up her now-free fist and hit the soldier behind her in the face, spun, and punched him in the gut. She grabbed the one whose arm she’d broken and yanked his head to the side, breaking his neck.
By the time Braith faced the last standing soldier, the dragon’s sword was arcing down toward her. Braith quickly reached up and caught the dragon’s forearms in her claws, held them. The pair struggled against each other. The soldier was strong, but to Addolgar and the soldier’s surprise, Braith was much stronger.
She yanked the soldier’s forearms apart so his sword dropped to the ground. Then she dragged the guard closer, rammed her head against his. Once. Twice. Until he was dazed, nearly out cold. That’s when she went behind him and grabbed his head. Addolgar thought she’d snap his neck like the others, but instead she forced her claws between his jaws and pried them open—and she kept prying until she’d broken the soldier’s jaws away from his head.
She dropped the body, picked up her dagger, and ran toward Addolgar. As she did, she passed the Red and she didn’t even stop as she charged by the still-breathing-but-clearly-dying dragon, cutting his throat as she moved and letting him bleed out while she came to Addolgar’s side.
Addolgar closed his eyes again, continued to feign unconsciousness. He felt her stroke his hair. “Addolgar? Addolgar?” She pressed two claws against his throat, felt for signs of life. When she found them, she let out a sigh.
&nb
sp; “Thank the gods,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Addolgar. I had no idea he would ever . . .” She swallowed. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you help and then I’ll go straight to the Queen. I’ll tell her everything. My father will pay for this betrayal.”
Yes. Her father would pay. And so would Braith. As one of Elder Emyr’s offspring, she would suffer the fate of her kin for no other reason than that she shared their bloodline. Addiena would want revenge now. Not when they eventually tracked Emyr down. And Addolgar realized he couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t fair. Addolgar would hate to be held responsible for some of the stupid centaur shit his kin did on a daily basis. So why should Braith suffer for her father’s treachery?
Yet he now understood Braith’s sense of honor. Not that people talked about it as they talked about Bercelak’s triumphs in battle or Ghleanna’s fearsome reputation among enemies. No. He hadn’t heard about it, he just saw it. In what she’d just done. Using her bare claws, she’d fought for his life and saved it. So Addolgar knew her honor existed. Knew it was powerful, which meant she wouldn’t listen to reason. She wouldn’t believe that Queen Addiena would hold against Braith what had clearly been plotted and executed by her father.
Addolgar wouldn’t let that happen.
So when Braith got to her claws and turned away from him to, he assumed, figure out her next step, Addolgar did the only thing he could think of. He forced himself to his claws, ignored how dizzy he felt, and grabbed the back of Braith’s head, slamming her right into the tree he’d passed out beside.
She went down hard, and was definitely out cold.
Panting, exhausted just from that little burst of energy, Addolgar stumbled and landed on his ass. He let out a sigh, glad to be sitting since standing wasn’t working well for him at the moment. He patted Braith on her now-bleeding head.
“Don’t worry, Braith of the Darkness. I won’t let you get yourself into trouble. No. I’m going to save you from yourself just as you saved me from those bloody treacherous bastards. That’s what friends do for each other. And since you saved my life . . . we’re friends, you and me.” He grinned despite the pain in his head and the need to vomit whatever he’d eaten earlier in the day. “Friends! Because look at the great way I take care of you!”
